


Viewing

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Facials, M/M, Poly!verse, Polyamory, RPF, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After wrapping the elevator shoot, Chris and Darren put on a private show for Will at home.  100% smutastic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Viewing

After almost a full day of kissing on set, Chris usually tells Darren to stay away with his mouth for awhile. Having to be like that with cameras and booms in your face for hours on end isn't much fun, on top of the fact that Chris has this limit on contact—he passes a saturation point with it where he just needs to be alone, untouched, and belong to himself for a while without the expectations or demands of another person factoring in.

But this kiss is—well. When they had said _go for it_ , when they had said _more intense than even that first time_ , when they had said _like stopping might actually kill you but then when it's over you realize that it's killed you anyway_ , he had wondered how it would play it, really play out, how their moods would align that day, how he would feel after, and then he'd spent half the day with Darren's tongue licking into his mouth and, yeah, it had been—yeah.

He's too focused to let it turn him on (they both typically are), but when it's over and he's strolling to the makeup trailer with the blue button-down hanging loose over nipples that are still stiff and Darren is a few feet behind him and his phone is buzzing with texts from Will asking how it went and will he be home on time and how does he feel about Will's mom's chicken and wild rice casserole for dinner instead of the usual delivery, he realizes that it's all sort of filtering through after the fact.

And he knows that the feeling is mutual when Darren— _Darren_ —is silent all the way through hair and makeup, all the way to the parking lot where they're parked one spot apart. They wouldn't dare go near each other on the lot, especially not this part of the lot, but Darren looks at him across the tops of their cars, his mouth a quirky, one-sided thing.

“Your house?” he asks, low and raspy, and oh, what that does to Chris' dick.

“Right now?”

Darren holds up his phone. “I'm on strict orders.”

Will is the best boyfriend _ever_.

“What did he...?”

“He wants to watch.”

Chris' whole body surges at the thought. And he supposes that they do owe Will—during the only break they had been able to take, he had snapped a close-up of his friction-pink lips with the message “he bites” attached, and Will had responded with a blushing and then a pouting emoji. They had intended to tease him a little more, but sometimes duty calls.

When Chris says this into his headset to Darren as they drive a few car lengths apart, he can practically hear the smirk when Darren replies, “Oh, you had to make out with a hot guy all day: first world problems.”

“Whatever, it doesn't even count when there are that many people staring at close-ups of your nose hair and chin pimples.”

“Well I hope you have some lip balm handy, then, because I intend to rock your fucking world when we get home, Colfer.”

“You tried to do that all day and failed, so...” Chris has to suppress his laughter. He is definitely teasing, but he likes to convince Darren that he isn't. It's part of the fun. It also leads to Darren giving their interactions a hundred and ten percent, and Chris kind of loves making him work for it.

When they get home, the furbabies are nowhere to be found, so Chris knows that Will isn't fucking around.

As soon as the door is shut he pushes Darren back into it, grabs him by his curls and seals their mouths and pelvises together. Kissing Blaine with the cameras rolling is nothing like this, though his mouth and chin are suffering from hours of repetitive, over the top kissing takes and he certainly feels as if he's been kissing all day, despite all of his prior declarations of what does and doesn't count.

Darren grabs his ass, hauls him in so close that he has to spread his thighs to accommodate the shove of Darren's leg without his cock and balls being crushed. He gasps, thrilled at the roughness, winds his arms around Darren's neck and slides his tongue into Darren's open, eager mouth.

Everything feels good right now, from the kiss to the hold to the trembling in his knees, but he kind of wants more, and it's easy enough to flip their positions, tear his mouth away from Darren's, and breathe, “Get me off?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Darren hisses, hooking his fingers in Chris' belt on either side and tugging. It's deliciously fast, Darren's capable fingers jerking his belt and fly open, fishing him out of his underwear and jacking him vertical. He doesn't even try to peel the skinny jeans off of Chris' legs—that would take another pair of hands and possibly the jaws of life right now.

Darren falls to his knees and licks Chris' cock into his mouth. Chris sinks his fingers to the last knuckle into Darren's hair and holds on when he begins to bob, wet and hot and tight. It's graceless, and Chris loves that—loves when it's shameless, just a hungry cock-sucking mouth swallowing his dick down like it's ambrosia. There's a time and a place for romance and drawing things out, but this isn't it.

He opens his eyes and sees Will sitting at the foot of the staircase in a pair of ratty house jeans and a t-shirt that's one size too small. He's grinning like a kid, his head tilted against the bannister, his dick beginning to make the crotch of his jeans full. He puts a finger to his lips to indicate that Chris should just let Darren have at it.

Chris has no problem with that.

And then Darren pulls off with a messy slurp, jacks him one-handed, and blurts, “Fuck my mouth.”

Chris _really_ has no problem with that.

It takes only a minute or two to get to the point where Darren has calmed down enough to relax his throat and breathe through his nose, and that's fucking heaven—Chris settles into a rapid clip, holding the base of Darren's skull under threaded fingers. The slippery, gagging clamp of the back of his throat is the most sublime tease. Chris watches Will the whole time, breathing fast, his pulse slamming at his throat and wrists and balls, and when Will slides one hand down the front of his loose jeans and cups himself Chris almost comes then and there.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, holding back, “fuck, fuck.” The orgasm rises, makes him shake and sweat and begin to lose it. He thumbs the spit-soaked corners of Darren's plump mouth. “I'm gonna come. Can I—fuck—want to come down your throat just like this.”

Darren makes a hungry, high-pitched noise of assent, and between that and watching Will fist his big cock against the front of his jeans, Chris falls apart, Darren's nose and chin bouncing off of his belly and balls as Chris fucks the back of his throat and then fills it with spurt after spurt of warm come. The world goes white for a few seconds as the pleasure rips down his spine and suffuses his body with warmth.

Darren is whimpering against his pubic hair, his throat working to swallow it all. Chris strokes his face.

“Having fun?” Darren asks Will, without turning around.

“Aw, he found me.”

“Your cologne smells nice.”

Chris tugs Darren to his feet and then close, licking at the swollen outline of his mouth. He can't seem to stop touching it, tasting it.

“Requests from the audience?” he asks Will, with a saucy little smile.

Will shifts up a few steps, spreads his legs and puts his elbows on his knees. “Kneel right here and let Darren fuck you?”

Darren is already wrapping around him, sliding one hand down the back of his impossibly tight jeans to squeeze his right cheek. His fingers drift to the left, push Chris' briefs right up against his crack and hole, rough and sudden and Chris inhales, clutching the arm that Darren slides around his waist.

“Gonna fuck you open,” Darren murmurs, rubbing the pucker through his underwear in tight, hard circles until he starts to shuffle forward toward the stairs and Will.

“Oh, god, yeah, yeah, come on.”

Will has lubricant, bless him, and is also willing to help Darren get Chris out of his jeans, which he loves to watch them do with frustrated tugs until the hems are peeled from around his ankles and their hands are everywhere, petting the hard, pale, long lines of his calves and thighs. Will sits up a step or two, putting himself out of reach so that Chris can kneel up the stairs with Darren below him.

Darren rolls his briefs down over his ass and thighs, bending to kiss the skin that's revealed.

Chris arches his back, listening to Darren pop the lubricant tube and coat his fingers. “Just fuck me,” he says, leaning forward to put one hand on Will's jean-clad thigh.

Darren's broad palms cradle his waist, thumbs almost touching at the small of his back, then slide slow and wondering over the broad, almost pear-shaped swell of his thighs and hips, his thumbs hooking on his crack and spreading him open at the very last moment.

Chris breathes out. He feels delirious and demanding on his hands and knees, Darren so solid behind him, and his beautiful Will cracking visibly with desire in front of him. He almost feels spoiled—only he knows that he deserves it. He's waited his whole life to ride these waves of uncomplicated, unconditional two-way desire, and now they're his to take and take and take.

When Darren presses against his lower back, lines their bodies up, he bends his head and exhales all the way through Darren's cock stretching his body open. Will touches his hair, and then his jaw, cupping his chin, just long enough for Chris to mouth at his fingertips, catch them, and draw two of Will's fingers into his mouth to suck on.

“Fuck,” Darren hisses, canting his pelvis back, only to slide roughly forward a second later. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Chris moans around the digits in his mouth and spreads his knees on the soft, deep carpet. The empty itch that he's felt all day begins to be wonderfully, completely scratched. He wants to lean forward and lick and bite at Will's cock through his jeans, but the angle is wrong and Darren's cock is in just the right spot and he's maybe a little bit selfish when he gets to be between them.

Will takes his cock out of his jeans—he isn't wearing underwear—and Chris makes a noise and lets his fingers go with a wet smack. They shine with his saliva and he whines, his ribs and belly expanding and contracting as Darren begins to fuck him in earnest, holding his ass up and his cheeks apart.

“Yeah,” Darren breathes, bearing down on him mercilessly, “oh, fuck, your fucking _ass_.”

Chris stares at Will's hand jacking up and down on his long, fat cock. His mouth floods with saliva.

“Gorgeous,” Will says, leaning back, thighs spread, his full balls edging out of his open fly. He cards his free hand's fingers through Chris' hair, pushing the limp strands tenderly off of his forehead. “What do you want, babe?”

Chris tries to think around the sensation of Darren's cock plunging, working him to a physical limit that's deeply satisfying. The backs of his thighs are tingling, and Darren's balls slapping against his full, swaying ones feels primal and urgent and right. There's a bright flush over his face, neck, and shoulders, and he can feel Darren's dick practically in his belly at the end of every thrust.

He just wants to be full and bracketed by them like this, always.

“Come on my face,” he says, licking out over his lips. “Just jerk off all over my face.”

“Shit,” Will hisses, his hips twitching. “Oh, shit.”

Darren moans, and reaches around the grasp Chris' dick, which is hard enough to be handled again. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Chris says, between two sharp breaths. He's too sensitive, but he doesn't care. “Oh, yeah.”

Chris can't believe the timing that Darren and Will always seem to manage in these scenarios—in the beginning it had been so strange, balancing the extra limbs and orgasms, but now he isn't even surprised when they seem to almost silently communicate with each other. Darren jacks his cock and fucks him in perfect counter-rhythm, and somehow seems to know exactly when Will is close, because he slows down, bends over Chris' back and changes the angle of his wrist. They're both breathing heavily, grunting and biting off moans, Chris' hole an elastic, eager, wet fist around Darren's throbbing cock, Will's fingers red with friction on himself.

Chris feels close, clamps down instinctively and throws his head back.

“Shit, fuck, yeah, come on him,” Darren pants, his hips snapping noisily against Chris' ass, which jiggles and bounces them right back. “Oh fuck oh _fuck_ I'm gonna shoot, just, fuck, come on him.”

“Gonna come in his ass?” Will asks, shaking, flushed red to his nipples.

“Fuck.”

“Do it,” Will says, his shoulders and arms and thighs all cording up at once.

“Darren,” Chris moans.

He shudders and comes in Darren's too-tight fist, dribbling sparsely over his knuckles. His ass throbs, contracts and releases in time with his heartbeat, and that's all it takes—Darren grips his cheeks so hard that it hurts, and comes inside of him, jolt after jolt.

“Oh my god,” Will gasps, and Chris closes his eyes just in time to feel the first rope of come fall across the right side of his face, splattering his nose, eyelashes, and cheek. Will shifts forward, those glorious hips and thighs flexing, and paints the other side of his face. He trails the dribbles over Chris' jaw, cheekbone, and chin.

Chris opens his mouth and sucks Will's cock inside hungrily, savoring the responding twitch. He opens his eyes once he decides that he can do so without getting come in his eye, though some is dangerously close to being sucked up his left nostril and that is not something he wants. He breathes through his mouth around Will's cock, savoring the sweet burn in his muscles and ass as Darren softens.

He stays there on his elbows and knees while Darren grabs a hand towel from the kitchen. Once his face is clean, he puts his cheek on Will's thigh and lets his spine go loose.

“I am going to sleep for two days,” he says.

Darren sits beside them, puts one hand on Chris' naked side and the other on Will's leg. “Well, that's how long we were in there. Seems about right.”

Will kisses Darren's cheek, and then bends to kiss Chris' hair. “Feel free to abandon me for sleep. As long as I get to go to the viewing.”

Chris laughs. “Deal.”


End file.
